Ethan's New Toys
by Manchester
Summary: Ethan's Halloween costumes became real, in addition to the fake props carried by those wearers, as shown by Xander's toy gun that changed into a working weapon. In this AU, Ethan added something else to the costumes.
1. Prologue

"Oh, bugger," grumbled an annoyed Ethan Rayne, as he looked down into the cardboard box he'd just taken from its hiding place on the bottom rear shelf of the cash register counter. The Englishman had then placed that carton upon the flat surface of the counter and pulled open the top flaps, revealing what was inside this package.

The whole reason for this Chaos mage's current exasperation was the bothersome fact that he'd just cast the preliminary enchantment upon the Halloween costumes that were now crowding the small shop located in Sunnydale's business district. It had taken him a couple of hours to single-handedly lug everything out of his rental van and set up all the outfits and props on display, with these items now ready for eager customers to pick out their choices on what to wear for this evening's parties or going trick-or-treating on the streets of the small California city. Of course, after Ethan cast the main spell invoking Janus itself later tonight, there'd then be perfectly wonderful pandemonium throughout the whole town, as the costumes at once changed their wearers into the actual characters matching whatever clothing they were presently garbed in. A state of affairs sure to bring a warm glow to any anarchist's heart, except that only a minute ago, Ethan had made a slight balls-up of everything.

It wasn't like he'd actually _meant_ to do this. Just before the ex-Londoner had placed his costumes inside the shop he'd just rented, Ethan had carefully looked around the empty room, apparently cleared out entirely of its previous contents by the former tenant. Finishing his examination, the mature man had been satisfied at the time that there wouldn't be any magical problems with casting his beginning spell to prepare the costumes and other items about to be moved inside the store. Unfortunately, after performing the initial invocation inside the now-packed shop to get these holiday outfits ready for the subsequent full-power spell done with the bust of Janus carefully tucked away in the back room, Ethan had then discovered that bloody box the size of a suitcase undoubtedly forgotten and left behind in the shop by the last tenant. After all, from what the landlord had casually mentioned as Ethan had signed the lease, that previous occupant had operated a toy store here, and what the Chaos mage had just taken out of the box to glumly inspect was nothing else but a prime example of a child's plaything.

Despite his evident irritation, a twist of Ethan's lips now allowed a faint, wry smile to form on his features, as the man reluctantly admitted to himself that back when he'd been a wee nipper himself, this tiny car he was holding would've been treasured by that little boy so long ago. Lifting up to his face the small object just half the length of his smallest finger and peering more closely at the toy, Ethan was actually impressed at the amount of fine detail displayed upon the miniature body of that automobile. With its spinning rubber wheels, minuscule windows that allowed the accurate interior to be admired, and a flawless paint job, this diminutive vehicle looked totally like an exact duplicate of that real-life car whose only apparent difference from that toy was in being a hundred times bigger.

Yes, well, the manufacturer of this toy had clearly done a bang-up job and bully for them, Ethan sardonically noted to himself, except that right now, as revealed by the mild tingling in his fingers gripping that little automobile, it and every single one of these other numerous different toy vehicles nearly filling the entire box had just been accidentally imbued with Chaos magic, exactly like his costumes and their props. Alas, the disconcerting fact was that Ethan had absolutely _no_ bloody idea what, if anything, might happen when the finishing magic cast by the bust of Janus pervaded those toys later tonight.

The safest, most sensible thing for him to do would have been for Ethan to simply remove the preliminary spell from everything in the shop - his wares _and_ those sodding toys - to then stuff that packed box into the rubbish bin outside the back of the store, and once again install the first part of the Chaos magic into his costumes.

However, there were two objections to that prudent proposal. The first flaw instantly realized by Ethan was that he basically wasn't sure if things would work properly if that sorcerer had to do it all over again. There were absolutely no guarantees with any kind of Chaos magic, and it was wholly possible that he'd just pulled off the only successful try during his very first attempt.

The second objection had to do with Ethan Rayne's prompt reaction throughout his entire life to such issues as safety and caution:

"_BORING_!"

A very slow and evil grin now appeared upon the Englishman's face, as he gently placed the toy car back in the box with its various metal companions. Ethan wasn't about to discount the remote possibility that what had just occurred was some kind of sign from his master, Janus itself. After all, if the human caster of Chaos had totally no idea concerning the type of anarchy produced tonight from his accidental spell upon those toys, it was clearly right and proper for Ethan to see what kind of disorder, confusion, and bedlam which would result on this Halloween in Sunnydale from unobtrusively slipping those little cars into some of his costumes that matched these toys…


	2. Cruisin' Late One Night

As waves of Chaos energy steadily emanated from the small bust of Janus perched on the cash register counter of the costume shop, Ethan Rayne gloried in the sensations he was experiencing from tonight's manifestation of his god, with that man actually bouncing on his feet from sheer delight, as he stood before that flat surface. The drumming of the sorcerer's fingers against the top of the counter was also being done in time with the rhythmic nodding of his head, accompanied by the loud humming that a smirking Ethan found too entertaining to stop, as a very particular song from the mid-sixties continued to resound inside his head.

It really was a pity that he couldn't leave his shop and actually see for himself just what the Briton had maliciously set into motion a mere few hours ago, but this gleeful man was absolutely sure the specific pairs of toy cars he'd previously slipped into two individual costumes would cause things to properly work out just as they should.

The only factor that might have made him hesitate back then was the exceedingly explicit climax which would happen to that utterly magnificent machine from his very own native land, but, well, omelets and broken eggs and all that, dum-de-dummm…

* * *

Spike shifted from game face back into his human appearance, wiping off a stray drop of blood from his chin and sucking his fingertip that had caught this delicious bit of bodily fluid before it could drip onto his latest trophy and possibly cause an unwanted stain. Shrugging his shoulders inside his perfectly-fitting black leather jacket, the vampire smirked down at the still form of his latest victim, lying face down on the asphalt of the Sunnydale alley where that college student had been caught and turned into tonight's meal for Spike. Simply for a lark, the demon had stripped off this fine piece of menswear just before he'd murdered that human, since his own jacket he'd taken from the dead Slayer bint back in New York decades before was being cleaned and couldn't be picked up until tomorrow. A pleased Spike running his hands down the sides of the soft, buttery fabric of his newest prize happily decided that he'd keep this first-rate jacket as a spare, since its former owner that had been wearing the coat as part of his Halloween costume certainly didn't need it any more.

As his fingers idly continued their stroking of the jacket, Spike unexpectedly felt something hard in one of the pockets, and he casually investigated, to then pull out a set of car keys. Beginning to toss these up in the air, a mildly-intrigued vampire spoke out loud, half to himself, "Wonder what kind of ride that bloke had and where it's parked. I feel like going for a bit of a spin and maybe running over a kiddie or two-"

In a flash of white flesh, the car keys were plucked out of Spike's grip, with the young woman who'd just done that then drifting away in her ragged Victorian garb, as Drusilla headed to the alley mouth, not looking back at an surprised Spike, his victim sprawled on the ground, or the other female the same age as the deceased college student and equally dead, with this human's date for tonight being left at her position further back in the alley and staring blankly upwards with her open eyes and ripped-apart throat.

From the departing vampiress' own throat came a humming sound, as she continued the unknown tune that was truly beginning to tick off Spike. He'd grumpily refrained from asking Dru what she'd been singing about ever since their big blowup last night, when after explaining to her his newest plan to kill Buffy Summers, Dru had gone into one of her fits, blathering about the Slayer who wasn't a Slayer, a soldier, and a ghost, all intermixed with her usual whimpering about the stars and Miss Edith. Spike had patiently put up with it all, until she'd gone on much longer than the insane demoness had ever done before, causing her lover to finally lose his temper and bellow, "DRU, SHUT THE BLEEDIN' HELL UP!"

Well, she had. Only to then stare directly at him with her mad eyes for a full five minutes in dead silence, and then she'd started that damn humming, all while dolefully regarding Spike. In the end, it had resulted in that English vampire stalking out of the crypt they'd been currently occupying, heading into Sunnydale proper in a desperate search for some peace and quiet, even if it was on Halloween, a holiday that blood-drinking monster ordinarily despised. Dru had followed right along, still continuing her closed-mouth singing throughout it all, just like she was doing now, as a cranky Spike went after his lover leaving the alley. When the two vampires came out into the quiet Sunnydale street, Spike blinked at where Drusilla was standing on the sidewalk like a statue, using one arm to point down the road, making him follow her gesture to where parked under a streetlight was…

"Oh, you beauty," softly whispered Spike, as he stared at the like-new 1963 Jaguar XK-E roadster, enthrallingly shining in the narrow cone of illumination from the light above, its bright red paint gleaming in the exact color of fresh blood. "You absolute beauty."

This time, it was Spike who drifted towards this utterly marvelous machine, just barely registering in his trance the car keys being slipping into his hand by Drusilla along the way, who'd also stopped her incessant humming. Absently clutching these items, Spike stopped by the car currently having its soft-top roof folded back, to stare down for long minutes at one of the wonders of the automobile world. Finally coming out of his daze, the vampire then blinked and looked around, to find Drusilla standing patiently there next to him. A wide grin splitting his face, Spike bent down to reach into the car and open the passenger door, all the while jovially saying, "Your carriage awaits you, my lady."

Eagerly awaiting his lover's reaction, Spike's exultant mood abruptly turned into puzzled worry at seeing Drusilla's blank countenance remaining unchanging, except for two sudden tears that appeared on her features, to then roll down her cheeks. The next instant, Drusilla slowly nodded once, as if in acceptance, and she stepped past Spike still holding the car door open for her, for that vampiress to take her seat inside the English-made vehicle, as she now stared straight ahead through the low front windshield.

A troubled Spike simply stood there for a few moments, until he at last shrugged in resigned acceptance over this latest example of the madwoman's odd behavior, and the demon then carefully swung the passenger door closed, with his spirits promptly rising at the sound of the solid 'clunk' this produced from that finely-built machine. Spike now dashed around to the driver's side, almost skipping in his enthusiasm, and he got into that left seat, sinking down into the car with a joyous sigh that came from the very bottom of his unbeating heart.

It all felt so…_right._ The driver's seat engulfed him as perfectly as did his leather jacket, and it seemed that he'd been waiting his whole life - both the human and vampire parts of it - to be nowhere else but here, in this exact spot. Lovingly extending his hand with the car keys in it, Spike experienced the smoothness of the key sliding into the ignition with all the pleasure as if he was slowly thrusting the instrument of torture that had given the vampire his nickname into the flesh of his worse enemy. Cautiously turning the key, Spike thrilled to the throaty rumble of the Coventry-created engine, and he then simply listened in quiet appreciation for the minute or so necessary to allow the supremely-tuned machinery to warm up. Shifting into first at the proper moment, Spike took his foot off the brake, and the car then drove off into the Sunnydale night.

The Jaguar glided through the California city as effortlessly as if it were its animal namesake, with this car's driver zealously obeying every traffic law. Not because Spike cared the slightest tinker's damn about anyone else on the road, but he was _not_ going to put a single scratch or dent on his superb ride. Already planning where to garage the newly-acquired car in someplace absolutely secure where he could gloat over it as often as he liked, the contended vampire came to a stop when the traffic light ahead on their street turned red. Blissfully throwing his right arm over the shoulders of a silent Drusilla next to himself, Spike gently stroked the back of her neck, but she refused to turn her head or otherwise acknowledge the other vampire, until the young-looking woman stiffened in her seat, at the exact moment another car pulled up in the other lane by the British vehicle.

Spike peered past Drusilla's set face, his own features shifting into mild surprise at what he was now seeing beyond their car. There, with its own engine softly rumbling as it waited for the light to change to green, was a classic silver Corvette from the same time period as the Jaguar. That equally-magnificent machine hid behind its left window a single driver, who possessed oddly-dim features unable to be clearly seen even by Spike's keen vampiric vision. That demon now squinted, trying to make out exactly who was in there, until that driver shifted in his seat, turning his head and clearly looking back at Spike, who still couldn't make out any specific features. However, what that stranger next did was totally unmistakable.

Still looking at Spike, the Corvette's driver caused his engine to utter a short, loud roar of serious horsepower, sending a very clear and blunt message.

Promptly forgetting his recent vow to treat the Jaguar with kid gloves, Spike allowed a truly evil smirk to appear on his lips, as he then willingly stomped his car's accelerator, producing an abrupt, thunderous response of equal mechanical authority. The other driver nodded once, indicating he was ready to begin their challenge when the traffic signal indicated the suitable moment, as per the proper courtesies. Still having a maniac grin on his face, Spike faced forward, keeping his eye on the light as he waited for it to change, keeping ready both his right hand upon the gearshift and his right foot on the brake. The vampire was too excited to bother thinking that Drusilla hadn't made the slightest movement or protest about anything that had just happened; instead Spike was impatiently waiting for-

The traffic light turned green.

In a blur of motion, Spike shifted into forward and shoved the accelerator down, causing the Jaguar to take off like a rocket. However, the Englishman's triumphant whoop trailed off into an astonished gurgle, as he disbelievingly watched the other car shoot much more quickly down the street, shimmering like a silvery ghost as that car's six taillights seemingly taunted the pursuing vampire. His face now grim, an enraged Spike held his accelerator fully down, ignoring all else around himself until after a minute later, as both cars flashed through Sunnydale, the Jaguar finally caught up, and then passed its opponent.

Now in the lead, Spike lifted his head and he screamed a celebratory victory howl that was speedily carried away in the onrushing air over the open car, to then bring back his exultant attention to the road, just in time to see the extremely sharp curve in the road coming up at immense speed. Once again depending upon his vampiric reflexes, a confident Spike began to move his foot from the accelerator to the brake pedal, as his right arm moved to the gearshift to shift down. Except, he then abruptly became totally unable to move, sitting absolutely frozen in his seat, as an unseen force clamped down upon all of his limbs, and the Jaguar now went into the curve, and with nobody in control of this vehicle, it began to skid off the road, right into the massive concrete retaining wall lining the curving side of the street….

Just before the Jaguar hit and exploded in a massive ball of flame that completely consumed the car and its riders, with Spike still incapable of any physical reaction, that terrified vampire did manage to hear the soft words of the song coming from his passenger, as Drusilla calmly accepted their fate by finally expressing out loud what she'd previously foreseen, all caused by Ethan Rayne's meddling:

"_Dead man's curve  
__Dead man's curve  
__Won't come back from dead man's curve_"

* * *

Author's Note:

"_I was cruising in my Stingray late one night  
__When an XKE pulled up on the right  
__And rolled down the window of his shiny new Jag  
__And challenged me then and there to a drag  
__I said, "You're on, buddy, my mill's runnin' fine  
__Let's come off the line, now, at Sunset and Vine  
__I'll go you one better if you've got the nerve  
__Let's race all the way to dead man's curve  
__Dead man's curve  
__Dead man's curve  
__Won't come back from dead man's curve_

_The street was deserted late Friday night  
__We were buggin' each other while we sat out the light  
__We both popped the clutch when the light turned green  
__You shoulda heard the whine from my screamin' machine  
__I flew past LaBrea, Schwab's, and Crescent Heights  
__And all the Jag could see were my six taillights  
__He passed me at Doheny then I started to swerve  
__But I pulled her out and there we were  
__At dead man's curve  
__Dead man's curve  
__Dead man's curve  
__Won't come back from dead man's curve_

_Well, the last thing I remember, Doc, I started to swerve  
__And then I saw the Jag slide into the curve  
__I know I'll never forget that horrible sight  
__I guess I found out for myself that everyone was right  
__Won't come back from dead man's curve  
__Dead man's curve, dead man's curve  
__Dead man's curve, dead man's curve  
__Dead man's curve, dead man's curve"_

_"_Dead Man's Curve" by Jan and Dean, 1964, on the album "Drag City", written by Jan Berry, Roger Christian, Brian Wilson, Artie Kornfeld.


	3. The Great Edwards

A truly happy Spike beamed down at the trembling victim held captive in his relentless grip, as he confided to the young girl in her ornate noblewoman's gown, who barely heard through her terror such odd statements as, "Lovely gel, my Dru, but for everything she gets right, there's always a 'alf-dozen bits of pure codswallop you have to suffer through. I mean, she nattered away all last bleedin' night about me meeting my fate on Halloween, and let me ask you, does this look anything like that?"

The vampire then smirked at how Buffy Summers' eyes rolled back in her head in a near-faint at that point, and momentarily ignoring his prey about to pass out, Spike lifted his head to share an evil grin with his band of minions scattered around the Sunnydale alley and eagerly watching their leader. Those idle buggers were for once being properly respectful, since it was clear to them all that they were about to witness history: the death of a third Slayer at the hands of William the Bloody. Even that blond bint's friends, including the poofter himself, were staring in horror while being subdued by the strongest demons of Spike's mob. Well, enough of savoring the moment; it was time to instead once more drink the sweet, sweet blood of a Slayer.

Pulling back his lips to reveal teeth that were about to change into fangs as he started to shift into game face, Spike abruptly froze in mid-transformation, as the vampire and the rest of the group of monsters were all taken completely by surprise at the sudden appearance of a speeding vehicle that loudly announced its entry into the alley with an immense, squawking blast from its rubber horn. All of the demonic minions that had been formerly standing there in the middle of the alley now frantically hurled themselves out of the way, winding up pressing their misshapen forms against the brick walls on the alley sides, as the breeze from the rapid passage of this bizarre motorcar blew against their unearthly faces with eyes wide open in shock. Spike himself was also gaping at the onrushing machine, too startled to notice how he'd relaxed his grip to allow an out-cold girl to drop onto the alley floor. Just as he was about to spin around and run for his unlife, a horrendous screeching sound echoed throughout the alley, as the car slammed on its brakes, coming to a stop only a few feet from the body of Buffy Summers missing all of this in her current state of being an unconscious French noblewoman.

For a few moments, there was both absolute silence and stillness in the alley, until this immobility of all those present there - Spike, his minions, Angel, Cordelia, and ghost-Willow, not to mention Buffy herself - was interrupted by someone else magnificently arising from his driver's seat, as the operator of the open-topped automobile stood in front of his steering wheel, arrogantly placed his fists on his hips, directed a very cold look at the flummoxed vampire illuminated in the flickering, yellow glow of the old-fashioned car headlights, and then this stranger drawled in his most contemptuous tone:

"Look here, you foul creature of the night, be off with you! Tonight, as is only right and proper, _I'm_ the one who'll be placing the heroine in jeopardy!"

* * *

Earlier that day, Ethan Rayne was brusquely jerked out of his contemplation of how many of his Chaos magic-imbued costumes he'd sold so far, as the sound of the "tinkle-THUD!" coming from the bell hanging onto the front door that had now been impatiently pushed open, to slam against the inner costume shop wall. Standing behind the cash register counter, the English sorcerer blinked at seeing the short man there framed in the open doorway and bestowing upon not only the proprietor but the entire stock of the costume shop an extremely sour look, the equivalent of a gallon of milk left out of the refrigerator for at least a fortnight.

Keeping a grouchy sneer fixed upon his face, the visitor stomped towards the bemused shopkeeper, with the very first irritated words then being barked from the unknown man, "Listen, you, I need a costume right now, and it better be cheap, because I don't need to be ripped off by paying for something I didn't want in the first place!"

Just managing to quell his immediate dislike towards his latest customer, Ethan hastily swallowed his derisive suggestion that for all he cared, this bloody dwarf was perfectly free to look for a costume anywhere else than his shop; say, on the next continent over. Instead, the Englishman simply murmured in his most syrupy voice, "Ah, Halloween is a time when most people don't mind dressing up-"

"Well, I'm not most people!" snapped the rude man who was making Ethan's fists itch. Unaware of just how close he was getting to GBH, this oblivious individual now declared, "I'm Principal Snyder of Sunnydale High School, and I _make_ other people wear what I want! Unfortunately, when I told my boss today about my latest plan to have those young criminals in my charge do something useful tonight, like escorting trick-or-treaters around town, he thought it was an absolutely wonderful idea, so much that he ordered _me_ to join them!"

After irately saying those final words, this Snyder bloke spun around to glare at the costumes stocked throughout the store, missing how Ethan then suddenly grinned from ear-to-ear at the glorious chance of getting that obnoxious chap there into the maximum amount of trouble tonight, if he could only talk this customer into the proper outfit- Quickly shifting his eager expression back into the right amount of proper interest, Ethan watched as the head of this city's main higher-education facility returned his attention to the other (and much taller) man, and began to loudly express his demands. "Now, like I said before, I'm not going to pay a penny more than I have to! Plus, it better be dignified, as benefits my position! Nothing from the comics or cartoons, nor any other children's entertainment!"

As his customer continued ranting, Ethan maintained his air of imperturbable attention, all while inwardly trying to decide what he could con this prat into wearing. At last, a proper challenge. Let's see, now…

Several minutes later, Snyder was approaching his maximum level of incandescence, all easily discernable by the reddening of his entire bald skull, as he bellowed across the counter, "Have you lost your mind! I'm not wearing that! He's the butt of everyone's jokes, what with him never winning and always being humiliated!"

Patiently awaiting the opportunity to slip in a word edgewise, Ethan seized his moment when Snyder paused for a moment to take in a breath, as the shopkeeper then persuasively said, "That may be, but you must admit that at least until the conclusion, this character does enjoy himself. Besides, if you want to get philosophical about it, there's also the point that if there's an Eternal Hero, there must also be an Eternal Opponent. As you just said, the word 'always' means no matter what happens in the end, a proper villain will forever survive, to again torment the leading man."

As he glared over the ludicrous costume laid out on the countertop at the idiotic foreigner there who'd come up with such a stupid suggestion, Snyder opened his mouth, about to pour absolute scorn upon what had just been said, only to be cut off by Ethan hastily adding what was sure to be the clincher: "It's your exact size, _and_ it's the cheapest costume in the whole store! In fact, I'll do even better. If you chose this, I'll throw in _another_ costume, free of charge!"

A suddenly-suspicious Snyder grumbled, "I don't want a costume in the first place! Why would I want another one?"

"Oh, not for you," Ethan denied, firmly shaking his head. He then pointed out, "Didn't you say you ordered your disruptive students to escort the local tykes around this town later on in Halloween? By any chance, would there be a particularly troublesome pupil among those rowdies, that would surely benefit from the firm hand of authority held ready tonight by a zealous guardian of discipline and propriety?"

After that last question, there was absolute silence in the costume shop, with Ethan carefully watching how Snyder was standing frozen there, staring ahead with a faraway look in the bald man's eyes, that slowly shifted into a gleam of pure evil. In a distant tone, a single name was whispered by someone now utterly won over by a silver-tongued Chaos mage, who was also at that precise moment unobtrusively slipping a little toy car from the box below the register counter into one of the pockets of the just-sold costume.

* * *

"_HARRIS!_"

A certain teenage boy dressed up in his Army fatigues came down from his startled leap caused by that happy bellow behind himself unexpectedly coming from further up the high school corridor. Frantically grabbing for his loose toy rifle also bought from the costume shop he'd visited earlier today, Xander Harris managed to keep from dropping this fake weapon on the floor, as he then turned around to see what a truly despised troll wanted _now._

In the very next moment, Xander was struck dumb, as was everyone else in the high school foyer, which included his fellow Scooby Gang members, Buffy and Willow dressed in their own holiday outfits, plus the numerous excited younger schoolchildren in their Halloween costumes. All of these people now gawked at the short man presently strutting towards them.

Proudly stroking with a fingertip the large, fake handlebar moustache attached with spirit gum to his upper lip, a smirking Principal Snyder finally stopped in front of the fascinated crowd, who all disbelievingly stared at a perfect example of a late nineteenth-century stock melodrama villain, right from a music-hall theater. In his top hat, swallowtail coat, vest, long-sleeved shirt, good pants, and high boots, all of this menacing clothing was in shades of deepest black, as if to illustrate the utter darkness of this scoundrel's heart.

At the proper moment, right before anyone could blurt out an incredulous giggle or disrespectful comment, Snyder casually informed the goggling young man before him, "Harris, I've changed my mind."

Hardly able to believe his luck, Xander stuttered, "You, uh, mean we don't have to take the kids around-"

"_Wrong!_" the principal barked in his best tone of jovial sadism, which further continued. "You and the other offenders here are still going to do that, or else. No, what I meant, you're not wearing that disreputable outfit you have on now."

A malevolent smile then appeared on the baddie's face, as he regarded Xander's Army costume. In his haughtiest voice, as if turning down the local widow's plea for more time to keep her orphanage from being foreclosed and turned into a high-class brothel, Snyder ordered an astonished Twinkie-lover, "Your new costume for tonight is in the first classroom behind me. Get in there and change into it, now!"

"_What?_" yelped Xander, staring at a smug villain clearly expecting instant obedience. Now absolutely outraged, the male Scooby demanded, "Why the hell-"

"Ah-hah!" Snyder shook a hypocritical finger at an angry teenager, whose temper only increased at a sanctimious voice then declaring, "That kind of vile language in front of these innocent children just got you a week of detention, starting Monday! And, it'll only be the first of many, all spent with me and your fellow culprits, or you can wear tonight what I got for you, and we'll call it quits. So, what'll it be, Harris?"

Not knowing what else to do, Xander then turned around, about to anxiously confer with his friends, until he halted in his tracks, to once more gape at where just a moment ago, Buffy and Willow with their groups of trick-or-treaters had been standing there in the foyer. Now, there was only his own bunch of kids dolefully regarding him while the sound of stampeding footsteps slowly died away in the school corridor, as a Slayer and a red-haired girl in her ghost costume at the forefront of their forces led a panicky retreat at full speed out of the school into the Sunnydale night. Leaving behind Xander Harris to his doom.

Knowing himself to be utterly betrayed, a teenage male's shoulders slumped, as he then gloomily wondered just what he was going to be forced to wear, anyway.

* * *

A couple of hours later:

"JANUS!"

Sometime after that:

"All right, Max, just why should I possibly care about the inbred youth of this bucolic community, which would itself only be improved by a few dozen natural disasters occurring here?"

"But, Professor, it provides the perfect chance for you to show off your brilliance when you demonstrate your latest invention! How else will anyone recognize your absolute genius, unless you prove tonight that nobody but yourself is capable of building something that'll handily defeat the monsters infesting this place?"

"Mmmm… Max, incredible as it may seem, for once in your life, you've made a valid point."

"Thank you, Professor."

"Don't let it go to your head."

"No, Professor."

"All right then, crank up the Hannibal Twin-8, and we'll be off."

"Can I drive?"

"No, you may _not_ drive, you buffoon!"

"…grumble, grumble, grumble…"

* * *

Two comedy reels afterwards, Spike the vampire stared in total disbelief at the outdated horseless carriage parked in front of himself. He hadn't seen anything like this for nearly a century, and maybe not even back then, what with its high, boxy body over twin sets of rear wheels, an open driver and passenger compartment, gleaming brass headlights, and a bizarre spear or probe extending from the front. Matching its occupant's attire, this early 1900's-style car was painted dead black.

Speaking of that soddin' loudmouthed driver… The demon still in game face glared back at the sneering man in his top hat standing up in his car, as Spike felt his temper about to explode. He really didn't need this shite, so that berk over there could just-

"BUGGER OFF!" roared the vampire, clenching his fists in preparation for the old ultra-violence, as Spike started to step forward over the Slayer's unconscious body, only to halt in his tracks at an entirely unexpected reaction.

A currently-possessed Principal Snyder slowly brought up his right hand to his face, and he now performed an absolutely magnificent twirl of the end of his moustache (it's all in the knuckles). Right after that, a steady order was given by that villain in his gleeful tone of utter malevolence:

"Press the button, Max."

Cackling in proper minion-like fashion, Xander Harris presently under the mental control of an entirely different person and dressed up in his lower-class servant's clothing from the last century then eagerly pressed the proper button on the instrument panel of their car that had manifested itself out of thin air earlier tonight.

An instant later, a small hatch popped open on the front hood of the Hannibal Twin-8, with a short metal cylinder then promptly sliding out, aimed directly at Spike the vampire. Who found himself looking right into the mouth of a miniature cannon.

_BOOOM!_

As clouds of fired gunpowder smoke then swirled throughout the Sunnydale alley, intermixed with the dust from a now-deceased enemy of the Scooby Gang, Principal Snyder thrust both of his arms up at the nighttime sky in his long-desired triumph, to then joyously bellow, "Thus shall all enemies perish when they meet…" (significant pause) "…PROFESSOR FATE!"

* * *

Author's Note: In 1965, Blake Edwards (1922-2010, director of the "Pink Panther" series, "Breakfast at Tiffany's", etc.) filmed the comedy movie _The Great Race _based on an actual historic event, the first around-the-world automobile race in 1908. Done in a hilarious melodramatic style, the cast includes Tony Curtis as our hero, the Great Leslie (*hurrah!*), Jack Lemmon as the dastardly Professor Fate (*hiss! boo!*), Peter Falk as Maximillian Meen, minion at your service (*idiot!*), and Natalie Wood as Maggie DuBois (*sigh*), a beautiful suffragist reporter determined to get the story and also the Great Leslie, as all of these people make their way around the globe at the turn of the century, plotting and scheming against each other.


End file.
